


Fluency

by spire_cx



Category: Infinite (Band)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Humiliation, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-11
Updated: 2012-11-11
Packaged: 2017-11-26 01:32:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/645054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spire_cx/pseuds/spire_cx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dongwoo wants to try something new. Woohyun indulges him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fluency

**Author's Note:**

> written for [this seoulfulness prompt](http://seoulfulness.livejournal.com/5360.html?thread=867312#t867312).

Dongwoo asks as they're lying in bed, on their backs beside each other and surfacing slowly from the haze of orgasm. Woohyun is still trying to catch his breath; his head and limbs feel heavy and he's nowhere near coherent enough for a conversation about their sex life, but Dongwoo has never been known for his good timing.

"Hey," Dongwoo says, his voice thick and dark with use. "Can I request something?"

Woohyun's heart catches in his chest. He had been rough tonight. Dongwoo had enjoyed it, had _encouraged_ it, had been the one who had lifted Woohyun's hands from the bed and placed them on the back of his own head and moaned when Woohyun got the hint and pushed him down on his cock. Dongwoo had encouraged it, but maybe Woohyun had taken it too far: maybe he had hurt him when he twisted his hands in Dongwoo's hair and held his head down and fucked up hard and fast into the heat of his mouth. Something inside him rings with pain at the thought of hurting Dongwoo—but something else, something selfish and essential, stiffens at the thought of never doing it again.

He had enjoyed it.

"Sure," Woohyun says, trying to keep his voice neutral.

"I'd really like it if you... talked," Dongwoo says. "I mean. While we're doing stuff."

Woohyun exhales the breath he hadn't known he was holding. He looks over at where Dongwoo is tracing shapes across his stomach with his own come. Dongwoo glances at him, his eyes gleaming in the low yellow light.

"What do you want me to say?" Woohyun asks.

"I don't know," Dongwoo says, his voice casual and light. "Dirty stuff."

Woohyun takes a deep breath. "I can do that."

That's a lie. Honestly, he's not sure if he can do that. He's never tried, never even thought about trying. He doesn't even know, really, what 'dirty stuff' is—or, perhaps more accurately, he doesn't know what it is to Dongwoo. He's about to ask when Dongwoo decides to speak.

"You can call me names if you want," he says.

Oh.

 _That_ kind of dirty stuff.

"Do you want me to?" Woohyun asks.

Dongwoo pauses, his finger stilling in the dip of his bellybutton. Woohyun can almost hear him blinking, the dry scratching of his eyelashes against each other whispering in the silence. He looks up at Woohyun, but his expression is blank and unreadable.

"I think so," he says, his voice low.

Woohyun looks away from him, and down at his own body: the harsh landscape of his muscles, the still-wet patch of pubic hair between his legs.

"I can try," Woohyun says, tentatively.

"It's okay if you can't," Dongwoo says. "You don't have to. I understand." He rolls onto his side to face Woohyun and puts an arm across his chest.

"I'll try," Woohyun says.

It's the last they speak of it, and the last Woohyun even thinks of it for a long while. They're busy these days, with less and less privacy, and it's hard to explore the dark corners of their sexualities when their only chances to even touch each other are rushed handjobs in restrooms.

Weeks pass before they get the chance to spend the night together again, but even as they finally move against each other in the tangle of his sheets Woohyun doesn't think about Dongwoo's request: their month-old barely-conversation is a mere shadow in the back of his mind, dwarfed by the feeling of Dongwoo's body against his.

They end up in reassuringly familiar positions: Dongwoo naked on his stomach in front of Woohyun, one leg pulled up at his side in casual, almost accidental exposure. Woohyun's working his usual magic with his hands, touching, teasing, making Dongwoo gasp and giggle in turns. He has two fingers inside him, sliding easily in and out as he runs his other hand over the rest of his body: his spine, the small of his back, his shoulders broad like valleys and thick with muscle.

Once Dongwoo is sighing into the pillows Woohyun pulls his hands away and kneels between his legs. Dongwoo does not make a sound but spreads his legs wider and lifts his ass a little higher, aiming blindly at where he knows Woohyun's cock is standing ready.

The cleft of Dongwoo's ass is glistening with lube, and Woohyun's heart skips beats at the thought of sliding into him. Even in the low light he can see Dongwoo's hole clenching around the empty space his hand has left behind. He wants in, so he puts the head of his cock against it, and pushes against him with small, minute movements of his hips. His cock slides across Dongwoo's slippery skin; as he begins to thrust shallowly it rubs back and forth against his entrance, now twitching and throbbing under his dick.

Dongwoo is silent and still, but when Woohyun looks up he sees his face flushed red, his eyes clenched shut, his brow furrowed, his mouth open and glistening wet.

The words spring unbidden to Woohyun's mind. They hang, clear as day, before his eyes. His immediate response is to push them away, and an older version of himself probably would have. But there's a voice in the back of his head now, firm, insistent, and well-intentioned, telling him to resist his knee-jerk reaction—telling him to speak.

Woohyun takes a deep breath.

"You want my cock?" he asks.

Dongwoo sighs heavily; his shoulders lift and fall. "Yes," he breathes.

It's a simple word, common and everyday, but as Dongwoo speaks it Woohyun's stomach drops out from his body.

"Tell me," Woohyun says, wanting more. "Tell me what you want."

Dongwoo moans softly and turns his face into the pillow. "I want you to fuck me," he says, his voice quiet and rough.

Woohyun's cock throbs in his fist. He pushes against Dongwoo's hole, and feels him begin to open under the pressure. He presses harder, and as he's beginning to sink inside, Dongwoo speaks again.

"I want your cock in my ass," he says.

Woohyun suddenly can't breathe. His chest is tight and his stomach is heavy, filled with stones. More words gather at the back of his throat, and the voice inside him again quells his instinct to swallow them down.

"Open up for me," he says.

Dongwoo inhales, clenches tight around the tip of Woohyun's cock, and then opens up, relaxing around him, granting him entrance. Woohyun slides inside, slow through the tight ring of muscle around his hole and then smooth and easy the rest of the way.

"Fuck," Woohyun says. He's panting already at the sensation of being inside him, wet and warm and enveloping. Then Dongwoo clenches purposefully around Woohyun's cock, and it knocks the breath straight out of him: it's so good Woohyun goes dizzy, and his body thrums with the need to move.

So he does, pulling out and pushing back in, slight movements at first, and then with more purpose as he feels the coil of pleasure tightening in his stomach and hears Dongwoo's breath begin to come in gasps.

Woohyun's strokes grow longer and smoother. Soon he's fucking him deep and hard, the slap of his hips against Dongwoo's ass echoing in his small, barren bedroom.

When Woohyun buries the entirety of his cock inside him, Dongwoo finally moans properly, loud and shameless.

Woohyun's vision goes blurry at the intensity of his sudden arousal. "You like that?" he says, though it's more air than sound.

"Yeah," Dongwoo groans.

Woohyun takes the initiative and begins to fuck him harder, faster, pounding into his pliant, willing body.

"Tell me," Woohyun says. He almost can't speak the words. They burn his tongue, the back of his throat, his stomach, deep inside of him. "What do you like?"

"Your cock," Dongwoo says, gasping between Woohyun's thrusts. "I like your cock inside me."

Woohyun takes a deep breath to prevent himself from cursing out loud. He looks between his legs and watches his cock moving in and out of Dongwoo's wet and open hole. He reaches down and runs the pad of his thumb around where he's buried in him, his touches featherlight, and Dongwoo gasps.

"You—" Woohyun begins. The words hover in his mind, tempting but terrifying. "You really love this, huh?"

"Yeah," Dongwoo says. "I love it when you fuck me."

Woohyun laughs. He's always known Dongwoo likes this: he can be quiet in bed but he's never been able to control his body, and makes his enjoyment apparent enough in the roll of his hips, the throb of his cock, the look on his face when he comes.

There's something different, though, about words. And there's something different about words from Dongwoo's mouth—Dongwoo, whose words are honest but always measured, carefully constructed, laced with intent and buttressed by thought and purpose and planning.

But nothing is being measured here; there is no intent or objective. These words are brazen and vulgar and raw, and Woohyun had never stopped to consider the difference but now that he hears them he can feel it in his bones—something shifting between the two of them, something cracking open.

And something inside himself cracking open too.

He thrusts deep and hard into Dongwoo, drawing out a guttural moan.

"You're a filthy slut," Woohyun says.

Dongwoo grunts, and a shiver runs down his body. "Yes," he says.

"A dirty fucking whore."

"Yes—"

"You're my nasty boy, aren't you?"

"Yes, yes," Dongwoo sobs, his entire body quaking beneath Woohyun. "Please, more."

Woohyun pulls at one of Dongwoo's arms. "Sit up."

Dongwoo draws up onto to his knees, his hair wild, his expression dazed, his eyes pink and puffy when he lifts his face from the pillow. Woohyun sits back and guides Dongwoo into his lap and back down onto his dick.

"Ride me," he says. "Fuck yourself on my cock."

Dongwoo braces himself on his own thighs and begins to bounce in Woohyun's lap, gasping with every movement. Woohyun uses his hands to angle Dongwoo's hips just right, and suddenly every stroke has his cock pushing hard against Dongwoo's prostate—Dongwoo shouts, the sound crackling like lightning down Woohyun's spine, and starts snapping his hips up and down in Woohyun's lap.

"Harder," Woohyun gasps. "I want you to come for me."

Dongwoo moans and increases his speed, his rhythm instinctual. Woohyun leans back on his arms and watches Dongwoo move on his cock. He doesn't have the energy to speak any more, all his words flown out the window. He's trying to control his breathing but it's getting harder and harder with every moment that passes, as the heat in his stomach builds to a fever pitch. Dongwoo's silence has broken, and he's whining, gasping, moaning openly: wordless sounds, curses, Woohyun's name.

When Woohyun sees Dongwoo move his hand from his thigh to his cock, he's hit with another wave of sensation, this one too strong to resist.

"I'm gonna come," he says, choking out the words as he teeters on the edge of orgasm.

Dongwoo's pace becomes erratic; Woohyun puts a hand on his hip and digs his fingers into his skin. Dongwoo hangs his head, cries out, and then they're both gone.

It's like falling from a great height into a cold sea. Woohyun is knocked out of his body by the force of it, and left gasping, reeling as everything inside him explodes in showers of sweet, bright light. He's vaguely aware of Dongwoo coming too, all his muscles stiffening, the hard lines of his body going harder, sharper, more clearly defined. It's stupid and melodramatic, Woohyun knows, but he thinks Dongwoo looks most beautiful like this: lost, hollow, open. Most beautiful, he thinks, and most like himself.

Afterward they're both a mess of semen, sweat, and lube. Woohyun eventually sits up and reaches for the roll of toilet paper by the bed. He wipes himself down first and Dongwoo second, careful not to look up at Dongwoo's face as he touches him. He's lying with his arm over his eyes, silent and still, not even moving to accommodate Woohyun's assistance.

Woohyun's heart is in the pit of his stomach again. He's terrified that he's done something wrong—that he took it too far, said something Dongwoo didn't want him to say. Maybe this is the end, he thinks as he balls up the last tissue and throws it into the pile on the floor.

He lays back in the blankets, hands folded on his chest. Beside him, Dongwoo removes his arm from his eyes. Woohyun looks at him, but his face, as usual, betrays nothing. He's thinking, Woohyun knows.

But then Dongwoo's emotionless expression falters. He opens his mouth and narrows his eyes and turns his lips up at the corners. He sits up and punches Woohyun's shoulder hard.

"What kind of porn do you watch!?" Dongwoo exclaims, and punches him again. "You're a pervert. A pervert! I can't believe you!"

Woohyun's heart flutters in his chest, buoyed by relief and affection. "You asked me to!" he laughs, slapping ineffectually at Dongwoo's well-aimed punches. "You asked me!"

Dongwoo has no defense against that accusation, so he keeps up his assault: punching, poking, slapping, until they're both breathless with laughter. Woohyun eventually grabs at his wrists, rolls him over into the sheets, and kisses him—finally and fiercely, something inside him shuddering at the feeling of Dongwoo's lips under his tongue.

"Any other requests?" Woohyun asks, panting as he pulls away.

"Yeah," Dongwoo says, a smile blooming across his mouth. "Kiss me again."


End file.
